LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

?S^*^5 

Chap. Copyright No. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Songs 



OF THE 



Lakes 



AND OTHER POEMS. 




-BY- 



/ 



Louise McCloy Horn. 



CINCINNATI 
THE EDITOR PUBLISHINO CO 

1899 



rWO COPIES RECEIVED, 



sv^ 



Library of^CfOfrM^ -^*S /5^<-\ 

Office of th, ^ (Ob^^ 

NOV 16 1809 > ,<b^'^ 

RegUttr of Q9pyrlfht%t 



476 12 

Copyrighted 

EDITOR PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Cincinnati. 

-1899- 



SECOND COPYt 






>12 



^ 



TO MY HUSBAND 

This volume is affectionately dedicated. 

L. m'c. H. 



r /• 



INDEX: 

SONGS OF THE LAKES. 

1 Lake Erie ------ i 

2 Song of the Lakes ----- 2 

3 Sunset - - ----- 3 

4 The Song of the Waves - - - - 4 

5 The Lights above the City - - - - 5 

6 The Life of the Sailor . - - - b 

7 The Fisherman ----- 8 

8 Lake Erie Islands - - - - 9 

CRADLE SONGS. 

1 Cradle Song 10 

2 When Eyelids Droop - - - - n 

3 ToBabyEdnah ----- 12 

4 Sweetheart Boy - - - - - 13 

5 Mother Goose Hour - - - - - 13 

6 At Bedtime 14 

7 Carol , My Baby - - - _ . 14 

8 Bedtime Stories - - - - - 15 

9 ToAzeline ------ 16 

10 Baby Lorain - - - - - 16 

PATRIOTIC SONGS. 

1 The Soldiers of Ohio ----- 17 

2 Our Army --.-_. 18 

3 Memorial Day ----- 19 

4 They Have Struck Their Tents - - 20 

5 The Passing Host ----- 2I 

6 Greetings to the Veterans - _ - 23 

7 Decoration Day . - - - 20 



RELIGIOUvS POEMS. 

1 Unto the Hills - . . . . 29 

2 The Bendiction - _ . . _ 30 

3 No Other Name - - - _ . 31 

4 Christian Endeavor - - - - - 32 
6 Post Tenebras Lux _ . _ _ 33 

6 Children of God . _ - . . 34 

7 Our Dwelling Place _ _ _ . 35 

8 Satisfied - 35 

9 A Quarter Century _ _ _ _ 35 

10 Stewardship - - - - - - 39 

11 Mummies _ - . . . _ 40 

12 Patience ------ 41 

13 Revelation - - - - - - 42 

14 Anniversary Hymn ----- 43 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

1 The Dying Poet - - - - 44 

2 June - - - - - - - 45 

3 Cobwebs ------ 46 

4 Dead— Aged 26 - - - - - - 48 

5 The Crown- Bird ----- 49 

6 The Old Garret Room ----- r.o 

7 Ireland ------ 51 

8 Over on the Cross Road - - - - 52 

9 A Dead Hope ----- 54 

10 The Talisman ------ r)5 

11 The Butternut Bough - - . - 58 

12 Childhood's Birthright . - . - 59 

13 Gold - (U 

14 The Song of Youth ----- ()L> 

15 Ohio All the Year ----- (VA 

15 The Brook Where We Lsed to Fish - - (54 

16 Out of Prison - - - . - (\r, 

17 In the Library - - - - - (*)7 

18 When Shadows Kail - . . . (-7 

19 ^^Till Death Us JoiiT' - - - - cs 



20 Asleep - - , - . - 70 

21 The Passing of Dawn - - - - - 71 

22 Song— Do They Whisper - - - . 71 

23 Ambition ..---. 72 

24 Retrospection « - _ - - 72 

25 With Memory's Eyes - - - - 73 

26 Dawn ------ 74 

27 Since Thou Art Away - - - - 74 

28 A Portent 76 

29 Swallows 77 

30 Nellie - 78 

81 A Vision 79 

32 The White Man's Privilege - - - 78 

33 The Height and the Valley - - - 84 



SONGS OF THE LAKES. 



)onas of 196 Qakes. 



LAKE EEIE. 

O, tell usi, placid waters, 

That stretch away, away, 
Tell us the mighty secrets 

Thy bosom holds for aye ; 
Thou who art old, we pray thee. 

Tell us the wondrous truth — 
Thou who dost keep through ages 

The dimples and smiles of youth. 

Thou who hast lain unchanging 

A thousand cycles past, 
Watching tlie march of nations 

Each greater than the last ; 
Nations whose names have perished, 

Buried centuries deep, 
And far within thy bosom 

Their records thou dost keep. 

O, tell us, cruel waters 

With Heaven's tints abloom. 
How many brave and noble 

Have found in thee a tomb? 
How many tears of sorrow 

Have swelled thy gleaming waves? 
How many hearts have broken 

For those within thy graves? 
1 



SOJ^GS OF THE LAKES 

No word, O, sullen waters, 

Thy gloomy depths will speak; 
Thou yieldest not thy knowledge. 

Though that be all we seek ; 
For if our eyes could search thee 

And read thy hidden lore, 
The books of all the ages 

Could never teach us more. 

But know, O, silent waters, 

There cometh fast a day 
In which thy darkest billows 

Shall all be swept away ; 
When from thy deepest caverns 

The nameless dead shall rise. 
And all the tales of all the years 

Lie clear beneath tb^ skies. 



SONG OF THE LAKES. 

Oh the charm of the dancing waters, 

The rose of the summer morn. 
The opal and pearl of the sunsets 

Which pass when the night is born! 
I love and I sing of thy glories. 

Ye beautiful inland lakes. 
Whether peace reigneth o'er you 

Or whether the tempest breaks. 

Away from the din of cities, 
Out where the breezes blow. 

Heaven undimmed above you. 
Paths unsullied below. 



SOJVGS OF THE LAKES 

Here's balm for the heart that's breaking, 

Here's for the toiler rest. 
Here's ease for the brow that's aching, 

Peace for the care-opprest. 

Oh student, turn from your pages; 

Here is the scroll of truth ; 
The science and art of Nature 

Down from the old Earth ^s youth. 
Here's poetry grand in rhythm, 

Tales for the World to read, 
Beligion pure from the Maker, 

Nobler than man-built creed. 

Come out on the welcoming waters ; 

'Twill teach you content once more : 
Earth's follies and vanities vanish 

As fadeth the line of the shore. 
X<et the charm of the waves steal o'er you 

Which the dusk and the dawn awakes, 
The spell of the starry midnights. 

Till your soul shall sing of the lakes. 



SUNSET. 

We stood upon a bluff out-jutting bold, 

The turbid waters dashed and broke below — 
And watched the cloudless western sky o'erswept 

By slowly bright'ning beauty till it grew 
A glorious, gleaming mass of color rolled 

From all the Universe. The sun aglow. 
Broad, brilliant, blinding, lower, lower stept; 

The rolling lake caught on its face a hue 
So marvelous our sight could grasp no more 

And tongues of power to speak it were bereft. 



SONGS OF THE LAKES 

A dye as if the pulsing- heart of Time 

Eternity's relentless dart had cleft, 
And let its blood gush out a-sudden o'er 

The heaving world, deep-stained with all its crime. 



THE SONG OF THE WAVES. 

A ceaseless song in mine ear is ringing, 

The song of the waves; 
When the wind of winter their foam is flinging, 
When the birds in springtime are northward winging^ 
Or when, at the time of harvest bringing 

The lake its rock-wall laves, 
I hearken, hush, as I walk anear it 
And always, ever, my soul doth hear it. 
I love it, weep with it, laugh with it, fear it, 

The marvelous song of the waves. 

Here, where the water is murmuring, crying,— 

The wail of the waves ! 
List, it is telling of lovers lying 
Down, deep down where no breeze is sighing. 
Where sand, slow-shifting, is ever trying 

To cover their unsought graves. 
Heart to heart they went down together; — 
Lovers forever, they reck not whether 
Fair or foul would have been life's weather; 

Nothing their slumber craves. 

Hear, — by these rocks with the breakers vying, 

The chant of the waves. 
How they are singing of heroes dying 
Where death with a thousand bullets flying. 
Death, the Dealer, man's life is buying 

Whose purchase a nation saves. 



SOJSTGS OF THE LAKES 

Now like a wondrous Anthem rolling 
Or the roar of a score of iron bells tolling 
They raise to the earth a strain consoling, — 
A requiem for its braves. 

Hush, where the pines o'er the depths are bending, 

The song of the waves ! 
A myriad voices are upward sending 
Measures of joy and sorrow blending, 
Youth and age in a march unending, 

Song of Freemen and song of Slaves. 
Love and brightness and woe and wailing 
Mingling, changing, swelling and failing 
Such is the song my soul assailing; 

The song of the surging waves. 



THE LIGHTS ABOVE THE CITY. 

On toward the distant city 
Swift the Steamer goes ; 

Evening breezes rising 
As the darkness grows, 

Silver gleaming in her wake. 
Star-lamps shining clear, — 

Ah ! the lights above the city 

As the boat draws near. 

Ah ! the lights above the city. 

Lighting many a home ; 
Throwing rays of welcome 

To the ones who roam. 
Lights of peace and plenty 

Lights of warmth and cheer. 
The lights above the city 

As the boat draws near. 



SOJYGS OF THE LAKES 

Ah ! the lights above the city, 

They shine on want and woe, 
They shine on sin and sorrow 

As the hours of darkness go. 
Thoy beam on scenes of revelry 

In hovel and in hall, 
They gleam upon the marriage feast 

And on the tear-stained pall. 

They shine on wealth and poverty, 

The vilest and the best; 
On care that knows no ceasing 

On toil that knows no rest. 
On praying and on cursing. 

On love and hate and fear — 
The lights above the city 

As the boat draws near. 



THE LIFE OF THE SAILOR. 

Oh, what is the life of the sailors on the mighty 
lakes who roam, 

Whose nights and days are on trackless ways. 
Who know not the hearths of home; 

Whose sole ^'good-night" is the star's far light, 
Who are kissed at morn by the foam? 

Oh, merry the life of the sailor, when waters and 
winds are fair. 

And happy and glad is the sailor lad. 
As his song rings out on the air ; 

True-hearted and strong as the day is long, 
And his laugh tells naught of care. 



SOJ^GS OF THE LAKES 

And pleasant the life of the sailor when the sun 
conies up in the East, 

When the summer morn is in glory born, 
And the white caps foam like yeast; 

When the vibrant steel and the tireless wheel, 
Sing praise to their great High-Priest. 

But drear is the life of the sailor when sullen and 
dark the sky, 

When the dull swells frown at him gazing down, 
And the clouds are gray on high ; 

When the wind waits still for the tempest's will, 
And the lagging hours go by. 

Oh fearful the life of the sailor who the winter's 
wrath must brave, 

When he needs must fight in the cold and night, 
The fiends of the wind and wave ; 

The hideous foe who would hurl him low, 
To an ever-waiting grave. 

Aye, this is the life of the sailor; danger and 
toil and pain ; 

A heart that cares and a heart that dares 
To challenge the treacherous main ; 

A heart that sings though the tempest springs, 
And laughs, though the storm-king reign. 



Ref. 



SOJSTGS OF THE LAKES 



THE FISHERMAN. 

The fisherman, where'er he be, 

Must rise ere break of day. 
And when the sun doth dye tlie sea 

Tlie fleet is far away. 
What matter tho' the wind doth blow 

And fiercely flies the foam, 
Now high, now low the boat must go. 

While loved ones wait at home. 

When dangers ride upon the tide 

The fisher's arm is strong; 
When sunny waters dance beside 

His song is loud and long. 
For nets must rise when smile the skies 

Or when the tempests roam. 
The stout heart flies where duty lies 

When loved ones wait at home. 



Then hoist the sail and face the gale 
Tho' wild the morn and drear. 

The fisher's bark is strong and dark, 
The fisher knows no fear. 



SOJSTGS OF THE LAKES 



SONNET. LAKE ERIE ISLANDS. 

I know where a nest of Islands lies, 

Jewel-hued on a bed of blue, 

Gold of the sunset gleaming through; 
They are truant clouds from the summer skies 

That wandered once when the world was new 
(Ah, clouds to-day are far more wise) 
Drawn by their own forms' fairy guise 

In a mirrored sky of the self -same hue. 

They floated, lavender, pearl and dove. 
Gems from the casket of Heaven rare, 

And the lake threw around them arms of love 
And kissed and caressed them lying there, 
Fairest of all when all was fair, 

Nor let them return to their home above. 



Cradle ^onas. 



CRADLE SONG. 

Kenneth, my baby, the twilight grows deep, 

The soft-stirring leaves hush the robins to sleep, 

Hide your brown eyes 'neath their fringed curtains white, 

Fold your sweet hands in a dainty good-night. 

Kenneth, my baby, no bonnier child 

God ever gave mother since Mary's babe smiled. 

I dream as I watch thee, my beautiful one. 

As a mother-heart ever must dream o'er her son. 

What wonder that Israel's mothers of old 

Could in such sinless eyes, the Annointed behold ! 

What wonder the Lord on that long-ago day 

Clasped and blessed such as these on the dusty highway. 

I wonder as softly beside thee I sing. 
What the hastening years to my baby will bring. 
What fulfillment will come of a promise so fair, 
What the fruitage will be when the bloom is so rare. 

Kenneth, my baby, though manhood come soon. 
The dawning's soft beauty be lost in the noon, 
Though mother thy life to the world must resign — 
Thy beautiful babyhood still shall be mine. 

And, Oh my heart's treasure, whatever betide 
O'er life's pathways untrodden, may God be thy guide; 
And when mother's brown hair shall have faded to white, 
May her prayers for her son be as glad as to-night. 

10 



CRADLE SONGS 11 



WHEN EYELIDS DROOP. 

Leaning into dreamland 

What does baby see, 
Touching- thus the curtains 

Of sleep's mystery? 
Lingering till the swinging 

Of the slumber-gates, 
Past whose silent hinges 

None know what awaits. 

Leaning into dreamland 

O'er the walls of sleep — 
'Round its low-laid portals 

Dusky shadows creep : 
Ever o'er its borders 

Soft clouds hover slow, 
Bearing on their bosoms 

Twilight's afterglow. 

O'er the dreamland meadows 

Velvet-soft the grass ; 
Cool and sweet it kisses 

Little feet that pass : 
Milky poppies nodding; — 

Daisies meek and fair 
Folding their white fingers 

O'er their hearts in prayer. 

Leaning into dreamland, — 
See the white lids close, — 

Slow, ah slow the gates swing- 
As the baby goes. 

Dainty mouth a smiling, 
What fair dreams allure? 

Sweet must be the visions 
Of a lieart so pure . 



12 CRADLE SONGS 



TO BABY EDNAH. 

Baby eyes, browner than Autumn nuts, 

Clearer than stars of night, 
Searching the souPs dim corners — 

Darkened and hid from sight: — 
Bringing forth to the day-gleam, 

Holding up to our view. 
Feelings, fancies and longings 

Solemn and sweet and new. 

Baby hands, dimpled and soft and small, 

Sea-shell dainty and fair. 
Playing upon our heart-strings 

Melodies deep and rare : 
Artists, musicians, sculptors 

Laureled in many lands. 
Never can move the nations 

As the touch of a baby's hands. 

Baby smiles, soft as the sunshine, 

Flooding the fields in May, 
Bringing to flower and fruitage, 

Seeds that are hidden away. 
Wakening life to beauty; 

Bidding the mists arise; 
Revealing adown dim vistas 

Glimpses of Paradise. 



CRADLE SONGS 18 



SWEETHEART BOY. 



Two small hands remorselessly, 
Push the waiting work away : 
Two red lips are pressed to mine, 
Two plump arms my neck entwine. 
While the brownest of brown eyes 
Help the soft voice emphasize 
''Kiss a Sweetheart Boy." 

Little two-year-old is he, 
Filling all the house with glee ; 
Shouting, laughing at his play. 
Into mischief all the day; 
Then, when twilight shadows creep, 
Pleading — ''Mamma, rock to sleep. 
Bock a Sweetheart Boy.'' 

Precious little Sweetheart Boy, 
Thy short life has given joy. 
More to be desired by far 
Than all earthly treasures are. 
God and Heaven would nearer be 
Could we only learn of thee — 
^'Little Sweetheart Boy." 



MOTHER GOOSE HOUR. 

One in the cradle and one on my knee. 
Both are as sleepy as sleepy can be ; 
Droop the long lashes o^er each drowsy eye 
While lips plead, "Sing Blackie-Birds 
Baked in a Pie." 



14 CRADLE 80XGS 

Lower and slower and sleepier too 
Comes the petition, ''Sing Little Boy Blue." 
One is asleep ere the final notes drop, 
But the other pleads faintly for, 

*'0n the Ti-ee-Top.'' 

*'Bock-a-bye Baby,''— as leaves of a rose 
The red lips are parted with — ''When 

the wind blows," 
''When the bough breaks" — how the soft 

breathings fall— 
"Down shall come rock-a-bye, 
Baby and all." 



AT BEDTIME. 

I kissed the crown of her curly head. 

My little maiden of three ; — 
Her shoulders smooth and her lips so red, 

Her feet and each dimpled knee : 
"Now where you found such sweet kisses," I said, 

"Is more than Mamma can see." 
From the innocent eyes the laughter fled — 

"Why, God put 'em there when He made me." 



CAROL, MY BABY. 

Mother kisses your fingers, Precious, 

Kisses them o'er and o'er 
And there's born a bliss with each silent kiss 

That's better than all earth's store. 
Better than wealth and fame. Precious, 

Better than passion wild, 
For naught but the love of God above 

Is as mother^s love for her child. 



CRADLE SONGS. 15 

Mother kisses your fingers, Precious, 

Dainty and lily-fair. 
And the deeps of your eyes like May time skies 

Are holy as shrines for prayer. 
Ah, God is good to us mothers, 

Giving us such as thou, 
And looking on thee in thy purity 

We catch the light from His brow. 

Mother kisses your fingers, Precious, 

Taught by each lingering kiss 
That the luring fires of denied desires 

Are as dross to the gold of this. 
I am humble before you. Precious, 

Of such are the Kingdom of Light, 
And the path of the soul to its far-off goal 

I see with a plainer sight. 



BEDTIME STORIES. 

My little girl-birdie is sleepy to-night 

Her brown eyes are tired as can be, 
Her feet are a- weary with playing all day 

And she climbs on my welcoming knee. 

*'Now tell me" she whispers, close nestled and warm, 

^' ^Bout once, — Oh a long time ago. 
When Mamma was little and lived on a farm 

And slided down hill in the snow. 

**N'en tell 'bout the bossies and little white lambs 

And the chickies as cute as can be. 
And, Oh Mamma, tell 'bout the tiny round beds 

That the birdies hang up in a tree. 



16 CBADLE SOj^GS 

''And please Mamma, tell 'bout the funny brown fish 

That play in the water so deep, 
And tell" — but the sweet eyes are hidden at last 

The little giii-birdie's asleep. 



TO AZALENE. 

Sweetest thy age of all the years, 

Dear little two-year-old. 
Each day a pearl from the Heavenly Shore 

Strung on a cord of gold. 
Given from God's hand one by one, 

Precious and pure and blest. 
At sunset slipping away again 

In the mother's heart to rest. 



BABY LORAIN. 

Oh, little March Crocus, so fragrant. 
We've a message to tell, sweet and true; 

A flower bloomed for us today. Crocus, 
As fair and as dainty as you. 

Oh Sunshine, across the floor lying, 
A Sunbeam as pure and as bright 

To-day has dropped down out of Heaven, 
And filled all our home with its light. 

Oh Bird, singing out in the meadow. 
We have caught from the Beautiful Shore ^ 

A Song from the heart of an Angel, 
To sing in our lives evermore. 



Patriotic ^onas. 



THE SOLDIERS OF OHIO. 

Oh, broad and fair Ohio, a hundred years ago 
Unbroken were thy solitudes, unchecked thy rivers' flow. 
Across thy bosom far and near the solemn forests grew, 
And wild and free o'er many a league the winds of winter 

blew. 
No prophet dreamed thy destiny, no seer foretold thy fame? 
A hundred years seems all too short to build so great a name. 

A hundred years, Ohio, and now o'er all the land. 
Thy signal-towers of valor on every hill-top stand. 
Thy warriors and thy statesmen, — a legion true and brave, 
To guard the nation's honor, the nation's name to save- 
No other state among us can raise aloft her shield 
And show so bright a record upon so fair a field. 

Oh, marvelous Ohio, what noble sons are thine; 
Hark! rivers of the southland; and list! ye northern pine; 
No stronger, grander manhood or North or South can show 
Or point to names more honored, where'er the breezes blow. 
Aye, thou hast reared, Ohio, thy groves and streams beside, 
Men whom the nations reverence with gratitude and pride. 

Bear witness. Oh ye battlefields, with christening-cups of 

blood ; 
Bear witness. Oh ye rivers, that ran with crimson flood, 
Bear witness, hills and meadows by cannon rent and torn; 
Ohio's sons have through you all Ohio's standard borne; 
In camp or march or bivouac, or on the death-swept plain, 
Her sword knew not dishonor, her banner knew not stain. 

17 



18 PATRIOTIC SONGS 

The soldiers of Ohio ! Oh may the day ne'er come 
When gratitude is wanting-, or lips of praise be dumb; 
The mothers who have borne them, and trained them duty- 
ward, 
The wives whose prayers rose daily as incense to the Lord, 
Whose hearts kept time to drum-beats, and tears poured 

out like rain — 
Now let them share the honor as they have shared the pain. 

And thou, beloved Ohio, as long as time shall last 

May still be found thy record as fair as in the past; 

And when the last brave comrade is ''mustered out" for aye, 

When side by side o'er all the land in silent ranks they lie , 

Then may their sons and daughters be still in name and 

deed 
As brave, as strong, as loyal to serve the nation's need. 



OUR ARMY. 

Ye boast your standing army, O countries far away, 
A million idle soldiers whom starving peasants pay. 
A horde who know no service but ceaseless drill and dress, 
Learned in the vices of the camp, the lore of idleness. 
Your young men, noble Kaiser, and yours, O mighty Czar, 
Are brave in lace and uniform, in golden band and star; 
Your peasants wear sad faces, your women plow and sow, 
And bound in labor's harness the very dogs must go. 
Your people know not happiness ; they live in hopeless need ; 
But you boast your standing army which they must toil to 
feed. 

We have a standing army;— there in the furrowed field 
They sow the seed, and gather the harvest's golden yield. 
They stand behind the counters, they drive the iron steeds, 
At desk or forge or factory they meet a nation's needs. 



PATBIOTIC SONGS 19 

They know the sweets of labor, they eat the bread of toil, 
Across the mighty land they reach, where e*er is freedom's 

soil; 
But let one voice demand them, let but one drum-beat fall — 
From out a million happy homes they answer to the call: 
No star upon our banner but makes its quota good; 
And rich and poor and black and white know naught but 

brotherhood. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 

Yes, we are thoughtless, you and I, 

Selfish and thoughtless and know it not; 

The thievish years as they hasten by 
Have blinded our eyes and seared our heart. 

In what are we selfish? In this, my Friend, 
That we sit at rest in our pleasant land. 

Where power and liberty meet and blend. 
Wrapped in a peace which is royal, grand. 

And we give no thought to the souls that fled 
Thousands on thousands that peace to buy: 

We give no thought to the hearts that bled ; 
Bled and broke to see dear one^s die. 

Scarcely the sounds of their drums has died. 
The echo of marching feet grown still ; 

Scarcely the stain of their blood has dried 
O'er a thousand miles of meadow and hill. 

And we, their kindred, with careless hand 
Reap the blessings they fought and won. 

And all too seldom our hearts expand 

For those who slumber, their life-work done. 



20 PATRLOTIU SOJSTGS 

We cannot pay them the debt we owe ; 

Can we pay our God for the care he gives? 
Can we paj^ for a Mother's love? Ah, no. 

Such debts are debts while the debtor lives* 

So our soldier martyrs we cannot pay ; 

Earth has no coin for a work so great, 
But our gratitude can be theirs for aye, 

And honor and love on their memory wait. 

And ever as passing years shall bring 
The day to their memory set apart, 

May blossoms of love and thankfulness spring 
In the garden-ground of each loyal heart. 

And when, in a far off day unknown 
Our country is called no longer young. 

But mightier far and wiser grown. 
Still by its sons may their praise be sung. 



THEY HAVE STRUCK THEIR TENTS. 

The strife is over, the years have fled; 

The grasses cover the slumbering dead; 

Peaceful and fair beneath the sky 

The battlefields nnd the trenches lie; 

Silent and grim each black-mouthed gun 

Since the tents were struck when the war was done. 

Many a spring with its gold and green 

North and Southland alike have seen 

Since a host, triumphant, marched once more 

Back to the North and the homestead door. 

Leaving a host, both Blue and Gray, 

Who had struck their tents till the Judgment Day. 



PATRIOTIC SONGS 21 

No more die men by a brother's hand, 

Please God forever, in our fair land. 

But fast, ah fast do the soldiers fall 

By the grim sharpshooter who waits for all; 

Each day for some are life's battles done. 

And they strike their tents, aye, one by one. 

Steadily, steadily, day by day, 

Is the great host marching away, away. 

They hark to the signal more and more, 

^^Fall in, fall in," for another shore; 

And they strike their tents in the morning light 

And pass forever from earthly sight. 

But though they go from this land of ours 

To the still, green beds which we deck with flowers, 

Though the blue-clad columns year by year 

In slower, thinner ranks appear 

Yet never, never, though we part. 

Will they strike their tents in the nation*s heart. 

And comrades, brothers who dared to go 

In the name of Freedom to face the foe — 

When you're ^ ^mustered out" at the last roll-call, 

** Discharged with honor" be each and all: 

May they answer gladlj'' where e'er they roam 

When the tents are struck and the '^boys" go home. 



THE PASSING HOST. 

Across the midnight sky it lies. 
Far-reaching, vast and grand. 

The unsolved mystery of the skies 
O'er every sea and land I 



22 PATRIOTIC SONGS 

The milky way. The darkness shows 
Its wond'rous notes and bars : 

A heavenly score which pales and glows 
While sing the morning stars. 

It lends the gloomy dome of night 

Its beauty and its grace ; 
And scatters radiance and light 

On every land and race. 

But when the dim faint tints of morn 

Foretell the coming day, 
'Ere yet within the east is born, 

The first resplendent ray, 

Then swift, ah, swift, its glory goes. 

Its marvels disappear ; 
Its radiance fainter, fainter grows, 

And dawning day draws near, 



E'en thus across our country's sky, 

When sudden darkness fell. 
When hearts grew faint at dangers nigh, 

And none the way could tell, 

There flashed a radiance far and near, 

A myriad stars aglow. 
Blending and gleaming fair and clear, 

A host no man might know. 

Heroic souls who fainted not. 
Strong hearts that would not fail. 

Brave eyes that watched while others fought; 
Fair faces, sad and pale. 



PATBIOTIG SONGS 23 

They made the darkness glorious, 

They pierced the deepest night, 
They spoke a cause victorious, 

The triumph of the right. 

The midnight passed and one by one 

We watched them fade and die; 
And as they go, may night be done 

And dawning day draw nigh. 

Aye, those that struggled, those that wept, 

Through hours of doubt and fear. 
In silence from our sight are swept; 

And, lo ! the morn is here. 

A new, grand morn for all the world, 

The Twentieth Century ; 
May earth with every flag unfurled 

Salute it in the sky. . 

And thou, oh God of war and peace, 

While nations rise and fall. 
Haste now the day when strife shall cease . 

And love shine over all. 



GREETINGS TO THE VETERANS. 

Once in a far-off country, 

When, after a conquest grand. 
The King and his hosts came marching 

Home to the fatherland. 
As they neared the gates of the city 

The watchman upon the wall 
With trumpets summoned the people 

Eagerly waiting the call. 



24 PATRIOTIC SONGS 

Then out they thronged from the cottage, 

And out from the palace gay, 
To welcome with shouts and music 

The army from far away. 
Cheer after cheer re-echoed 

As the weary soldiers came 
Marked with the stains of warfare, 

Footman and horse the same. 

Cheers for the guarded captives, 

Sullen irom fear and pain: 
Cheers for the spoils of conquest 

Borne in a long-drawn train. 
But hush ! And the cheers are silent; 

What do the heralds call? 
They come ! The Kin^ and his legion, — 

The bravest and best of all ! 

Then the people bend in reverence 

With never a cheer nor cry, 
And the silence is deep and solemn 

While the Ring is passing by. 
Cheers are for all the others, — 

Glad do the echoes ring, — 
But silence, only silence 

For the legion of the King; 

And thus we stand, O Veteran, 

Before you here to-day. 
Our lips but poorly fashion 

The thoughts our hearts would say. 
For words, oft-times so mighty. 

Are weak and faltering now 
And silence seems most fitting 

In greeting such as thou. 



PATRIOTIC SONGS 25 

We think of homes made desolate, 

Of loving hearts that broke, 
Of lives laid down by thousands 

Amid the battle-smoke ; 
Of suffering unfathomed 

In prison-pen and field, 
Of cold and hunger ;— hearts that bled 

But knew not how to yield. 

We think of what we owe to thee: — 

A broad and glorious land, 
In peace and liberty unmatched, 

In union strong and grand ; 
Which fears no foe ; which floats a flag 

Beloved on every sea; 
With homes secure 'mid fruitful fields,— 

All this we owe to thee. 

And so, with hearts which seek in vain 

For fitting words, we bow: 
The whole wide country greeteth thee 

With silent reverence now : 
And while the stars and stripes shall wave, 

Their voiceless speech shall be, 
On whatsoever sea or shore, 

A greeting unto thee. 



rATBIOTIC 80]^ G8 



DECORATION DAY. 

Echoing over the land to-day, 

By the sands of the ocean dying away, 

A thousand voices in word and song 

Mourn for the fallen, mourn for the strong. 

A thousand hands lay the May-time bloom 

Over the sleeping soldiers' tomb, 

And thousands think of the graves that lie 

Unknown, unhonored beneath the sky. 

Thirty years have the light and shade 
Over their resting-places played ; 
Thirty years since the war-cloud broke, 
Thirty years since the echoes woke: 
And ten times thirty shall circle round 
And still shall the pulsing echoes sound, 
And names shall live as the years roll on 
As liveth the name of Marathon. 

Thirty years o'er the blood-drenched plains 
Have fallen the mournful Autumn rains; 
Thirty springs o'er the war-scarred hills 
Have wafted the breath of daffodils , 
But shower nor blossom nor waving grain 
Never can blot out Gettysburg's stain. 
Nor the storms of a thousand years erase 
The path to the sea that Sherman traced. 

To-day how memory wakes to life 

In the breasts of those who watched the strife, 

Whether under the Southern skies 

Seeing the battle-smoke arise. 

Or under the milder Northern sun 

Where the heart's fierce battles were lost or won; 

Matrons to-day, and gray-haired men — 

They were but youths and maidens then. 



PATRIOTIC SOJsrGS 27 

Again they hear across the years 
The country's call for volunteers, 
And feel once more the awful thrill 
That heralded the Nation's ill. 
Again as the rolling drum- beat falls 
'They hear the shout o'er Sumpter's walls, 
Or see the first warm Mfe-blood pour 
In the crowded streets of Baltimore. 

A thousand veterans fight anew 

Shiloh and Fair Oaks of '62. * 

See Ghickamauga's blood-stained breast 

Or gaze on Lookout's cloud-capped crest. 

Rebel prisons their scenes unfold, 

Weary marches, hunger and cold. 

The cheer of the camp, the game, the song. 

And all that to soldiers' lives belong. 

But cometh the day when none shall say 
*'Do you remember"— of Blue or Gray. 
Cometh the day when far or near 
None to the roll-call answer ''here." 
Cometh the day and cometh fast 
When the last of the thinning ranks has passed 
And a legion lie 'neath the blooms of May 
Who follow the beating drums to-day. 

But not the least of the battles fought, 
Not the least of the great deeds wrought 
Were done afar from the scenes of strife 
Afar from the sound of drum and fife. 
Were done by wives, by daughters fair, 
By suffering mothers everywhere. 
Who, knowing not Gethsemane's gloom, 
Gethsemane find at the cross and tomb. 



28 PATRIOTIC 80NQ8 

The crowd of the martyr they may not bear 
The vestments of honor they may not wear, 
No roster ever hath borne their name ; 
They hold no rank in the lists of fame, 
But on Freedom's Altar they feed the blaze 
As the Vestal Virgins in Rome's great days. 
And a mighty debt to their hearts and hands 
In the Nation's unread record stands. 

And soldiers, sleeping beneath the dew 
Or wearing still the Army Blue, 
All honor to thy deed and name, 
Whate'er thy rank, whatever thy fame, 
For deeds shall live though brows lie cold 
And memories fade to legends old. 
And Freedom aye shall deck thy tombs 
With gratitude's unfading blooms. 



Reliaious Poems^ 



UNTO THE HILLS. 

"Unto the hills from whence cometh our strength," 
Grandly the chorus of Israel thrills. 
Small wonder, O Psalmist, the wings of thy music, 
Carried thy soul like a bird to the hills. 

'*I will lift up mine eyes," so the melody ringeth. 
Away from earth's trials, and struggles, and sin, 
Unto the hills where the Father's hand resteth. 
Emblems of strength that is mighty to win. 

Unto the hills never failing and peaceful; 
Firm 'mid the tempest through ages untold ; 
Millions the feet which their pathways have trodden; 
Millions the graves which their bosoms enfold. 

'*From whence cometh our strength," O Creator and Father, 
Thou in whose might earth's high places can trust, 
Thou, and Thou only, our need of strength knoweth, 
Who remembereth that we, like the mountains, are dust. 

Strength for life's daily temptations and trials ; 
Strength to be patient with friend as with foe; 
Strength for Thy charity, strength for forgiving. 
As we Thy forgiveness, O Father would know. 

Strength to live strongly and nobly before Thee, 
Hast'ning Thy kingdom with labor and prayer. 
Humble with sense of our guilt and our weakness. 
Strong in Thy strength and secure in Thy care. 

29 



30 RELIGIOUS POEMS 

Unto the hills in their grandeur and beauty, 
Lovingly, trustingly, lift we our eyes. 
Thanksgiving and jjraise from earth's hilltops, O Father, 
Forever like incense to Thee shall arise. 



THE BENEDICTION. 

We stood before him with bended heads 
In the hush of the Sabbath, with one accord. 

'^And now may you grow in Grace," he said, 
'^And in knowledge and love of Christ, our Lord." 

The music echoed from dome and wall 
Drowning the greeting and low-voiced word, 

And throbbing and murmuring through it all 
Over and over again I heard— 

*'Grow in Grace" — how the echoes rang! 

*'And in knowledge and love, O Christ, of Thee." 
Till the chords of my heart responsive sang, 

And a prayer rose out of the melody. 

''Oh Master, Thou with a voice so winning. 
Love and peace in Thine eyes divine, 

Help us, willful and blind and sinning. 
That down on our hearts Thy light may shine. 

For a greater change than the Springtime maketh 
Earth and its suffering hosts shall know. 

When the light of life in each heart awaketh 
And in love and knowledge of Thee we grow. 

*'Grow in Grace," O our Lord and Master, 
Haste, we pray Thee, the blessed day. 

When truth and righteousness, fast and faster 
Banish hatred and greed away. 



RELIGIOUS POEMS 81 

When knowledge of Thee shall be richest treasure, 
Sought as men seek for gold and fame. 

And our lives shall grow to their grandest measure, 
In grace and love of Thy wondrous Name. 



NO OTHER NAME. 

Jjying for alms at the Beautiful Gate 

Helpless and maimed did the lame man wait; 

Daily the worshipers passed him by, 

Fleet and active, eager of eye. 

Daily of pity and alms they gave, 

But none of the throng could help or save. 

Naught did he know of the city's strife, 
Naught did he know of the flow of life. 
Joy of boyhood and youth's warm zeal. 
Strength of manhood, he ne'er could feel: 
Hopelessly, wearily, life's drear day- 
Morning and noontide, passed away. 

Came there two on that long gone day — 
Plain in raiment and poor were they — 
But none of the stately Pharisees bore 
On face or figure the grace they wore — 
Strength and wisdom and love and rest — 
Peter, forgiven, and John tlie Blest. 

**Silver and gold have I none" said he, 

**But such as I have will I give unto thee. 

In the name of the Christ wlio from Nazareth came. 

Rise up and walk." Ah, the wonderful Name ! 

He lifted the maimed one, hand in hand. 

And over him flooded a life-tide grand. 



82 BELfGIOUS POEMS 

On the morrow they questioned them, rulers grave ^ 

Elders and priests, ''By what power to save, 

By what marvelous Name did ye this thing do?'' 

List to the words to eternity true ! 

'^There is no other Name among men known, 

Able to save us, but Christ's alone.'' 

No other Name, oh, sin-maimed earth. 
Helpless and suffering, lame from birth ; 
No other Name, oh, ye who lie 
Crushed and trampled, ready to die. 
No other Name; but humanity's woes 
Christ, the tempted and crucified, knows. 

Hopeless, ye sit at the Beautiful Gate; 

Naught do ye know of the joys that wait. 

Bowed 'neath thy burden beside the way. 

Falling and perishing day by day. 

No other name beneath the skies. 

But the Name of the Christ can bid thee rise. 



CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR. 

Let us broaden our hearts, O Brothers; 

Let love grow up in our souls 
Till over the whole, wide, suffering earth. 

The tidal wave. Charity, rolls. 

Let us scorn not humanity. Brothers; 

Out of Nazareth cometh the Christ, 
For the lowly, the sinful, the weary. 

Were his glory and life sacrificed. 

Let us rise above selfishness. Brothers; 

Round us heaven showers its store. 
There are many on earth who have nothings 

Can their poverty be at our door? 



BELIGIOUS POEMS 33 

Aye, many and many, My Brothers, 
Born to suffering, wretchedness, shame. 

Oh can we not reach them and help them, 
In His love and the power of His name? 

*'To the least of these," think, O My Brothers; 

We living for self and for friend. 
To our ears is the ''Inasmuch" coming. 

When life shall have rounded the end ! 

Then low at the feet of the Master, 

In love and in shame let us bow ; 
The world Thou hast died for. Our Saviour, 

O, help us to live for it now. 



POST TENEBRAS LUX. 

Through the valleys slowly wending, 
Hope and doubt forever blending. 
Prayer for guidance upward sending, 

We await the dawning day. 
Through the darkness piercing never, 
Held by bonds we cannot sever. 
Still out-reaching, striving ever. 

We are guided on our way. 

Woe and gladness mingled meet us. 
Voice of foe and lover greet us. 
Upward still the pathways lead us. 

On to joy and peace and rest. 
Weary hands shall soon be light, 
Mortal vision dim grow bright, 
Waiting hearts shall see aright. 

Freedom come to souls opprest. 



84 BELiaiOUS POEMS 

Though the pathway be but drear, 
See ! the hill-tops grow more clear, 
Draweth now the dawning near, 

Heart, look upward, onward press. 
Still the beck'ning hand pursue, 
Failing strength again renew. 
Power will come to be and do, 

Soon we'll wear immortal dress. 

And at last the journey ending. 
We, the mountain-tops ascending 
View the day-break glories blending 

With the scattering shades of night. 
Free from all the chains that bound us, 
Free from all the shadows round us, 
Soon the sunrise shall have found us, — 
After darkness comes the light. 



CHILDREN OF GOD. 

Call us not servants, Lord, we pray. 
But children, often led astray; 
Children who love, but disobey. 

Who wander, while the sun is bright. 

Far from a loving Father's sight, 

But haste to him when nears the night. 

Who, heedless, till the day has fled 
Have loitered where their fancy led, 
Then look to Thee for daily bread. 

Call us not servants, is our prayer. 
Children, who crave thy constant care, 
Thy tenderness beyond compare. 



RELIGIOUS POEMS 35 

Who would thy will should shape their deeds, 
But know an Elder Brother pleads 
For each frail child that pardon needs. 



OUR DWELLING PLACE. 

After the toil of the day and its trials, 
Life's disappointments, hope's constant denials. 
After the efforts that ended in failing, 
After the laughter whose echo was wailing, 
After the seeking that never is finding. 
After the pathway so rough and so winding. 
Wayworn and weak with our wearisome roaming. 
Turn we at last in the star-lighted gloaming 

Home to onr Dwelling Place, Father, in Thee. 

Fortress art Thou, sin's besiegers defying. 
Beautiful Palace, heart's longings supplying, 
Befuge, with enemy never molesting, 
Home for the weary, with loving and resting. 
Altar that satisfies all the soul's yearning. 
School, with no end to its wonderful learning, 
Down through all ages, in all generations 
Up from the deeps of earth struggle the Nations 
Seeking their Dwelling Place, Father, in Thee. 



SATISFIED. 

Oh, the hungry, longing Soul, 

As the solemn ages roll 
Seeketh ever, seeketh ever, somewhere to abide. 

Seeketh food and shelter meet, 

Seeketh friends and converse sweet, 
Seeketh pleasant waters with meadows green beside. 



86 BELIGIOUS POEMS 

Every age and every clime 

Since the sunny morn of Time 
Has the Soul, blindfolded, wandered far and wide. 

Treading sad and weary 

Deserts wide and dreary, 
Feeding, royal prodigal, on husks for swine supplied. 

Building temples treasure-trove 

To Mahomet, Buddha, Jove, 
Finding not in all its quest the God for which it cried. 

Finding refuge never. 

Dread and darkness ever, 
Sorrow, toil and anguish, death and naught beside. 

Haste, oh haste the glorious dawn 

Of the long-awaited morn 
When the Soul, returning, seeks its Father's side. 

Haste, Oh God, the day supernal 

When we, through Thy love eternal, 
In Thy likeness waking, shall be satisfied. 



*A QUARTER CENTURY. 

As out-bound sailors turn to view 

the fast receding shore. 
Or pilgrims up the mountain-side, 

gaze back the pathway o'er, 
E'en thus our steps have halted, to 

scan the path we tread — 
A quarter-century beliind. 

Eternity, ahead. 
A quarter-century of toil, of faith 

and hope and pain ; 
A quarter-century of love, 

of blessing and of gain, 

♦Read at the twenty-llfih anniversary of the founding of a church. 



BELIGI0U8 POEMS 37 

Of deeds imprinted by the stern 

Recording Angel's hand, 
Of words, perchance, which may not die, 

while earthly hilltops stand. 
For who can weigh the value of 

prayers and hopes and tears. 
Or measure out the fruitfulness 

of five and twenty years? 
Aye, as the May-flower started, 

that morning long ago, 
Deep-freighted with what issues, 

the Lord alone could know, 
So starts each band that ventures 

across Time's unknown sea, 
''Thy Kingdom Come," their watch-word, 

their port. Eternity. 
No nobler work, O Brothers, 

can human hands essay, 
Than in the Master's service 

to labor day by day. 
No other field so mighty, no other 

end so sure, 
No other fruits so glorious, 

so certain to endure. 
No other life so happy, so peaceful 

and so blest, 
No other pathway leading on 

to God's eternal rest. 
Who knows what feet within these walls 

to straighter paths have turned? 
Who knows what hearts beneath this roof 

with purer thoughts have burned? 
Who knows what waves of blessing, have 

started from this door. 
Forever widening onward to Heaven's 

unchanging shore? 



38 BELIGIO US P0E3fS 

With thankful hearts we gather 

in this His temple, now; 
With humblest gratitude and love, 

before His throne we bow; 
To Him who thus hath led us, and 

blest us on the way, 
Whose grace has been our sure defence^ 

whose love has been our stay. 
Whose mercy and whose tenderness 

are an unfailing store, 
To Him be love and service, and 

praise forevermore. 
And yet, what heart but saddens, 

at thought of good undone? 
Of anger unforgiven at setting of 

the sun? 
Of suffering unlightened. 

Of prison doors unsought? 
Defeat instead of victory in many 

battles fought? 
Of judgment for the erring, 

instead of loving aid? 
Of halting feet which often from 

narrow paths have strayed? 
God give us strength and wisdom ; 

God teach our hearts to see 
The beauty of unselfishness , 

The joy of ministry. 
God broaden out our vision, 

that we may feel indeed 
The pleadings of humanity, 

the world's unfathomed need; 
That we may know ourselves sent out, 

as Christ was sent of old. 
And hear him saying,'' Feed my lambs," 

and bring them to the fold. 



BELIGI0U8 FOE 318 3^ 

God teach our hearts to covet 

His wondrous gifts in store^. 
Till earthly wealth and honor, 

shall tempt us nevermore^ 
God guide us in his service 

till all at last shall know. 
The peace which consecration 

can on our hearts bestow; 
And when at last is finished 

for each this earthly race, 
And from His church below we rise' 

to see the Master's face. 
With strivings all behind us, 

life's toilsome journey run, 
O Father, Master, may we hear 

thine accents say, ''Well done."' 



STEWAllDSHIP. 

Thou hast said, O Lord, that the earth is thine,. 
The earth and its fullness are thine alone. 
Yet we hoard and keep what is not our own, 
And say in our hearts. ''All this is mine." 
Forgive us. Lord, that thy children die- 
Starve and die in a broad, fair land. 
Perish daily in reach of our hand. 
And we on the other side pass by. 
Nay, more; so long have our eyes been blind, 
So long is our Stewardship forgot. 
Though the cries are legion we hear them not, 
Nor think that our hand should the death-wound bind* 
O, master, forgive, that thy name we bear. 
But thy garment of pity we do not wear. 



40 RELIGIOUS POEMS 



MUMMIES. 

We're munimies, friend, we're raummies, I say, 

Deep under Pyramids hidden away, 

The sun cannot pierce the stones that rise 

Heavy and damp above one's eyes, 

And wandering breezes perfumed rare 

Never can touch one's brow or hair. 

Mummies embalmed with myrrh and spice, 

And bitter aloes of selfishness ; 

Wound and bound with fold on fold 

Of creeds and dogmas and doctrines old, 

In a coffin of orthodoxy strong 

Slumbering peacefully, sound and long. 

The stones above us are massive and cold. 
Cut from the quarries old, so old, 
Of the World's Opinions, which first and last, 
Are found in the heart of the hill of Caste. 
The rivers of Mammon flow close beside 
And empty into the gulf of Pride. 

Perhaps you remember the corn that lay 

In the tomb of Pharaoh stored away : — 

Think you the germ had started green 

In the thousand years since the grain was seen? 

Seeds in creeds may be good, I know, 

But they need the sunligiit before they'll grow. 

The sunlight of Love falls warm from the sky 
And life is only obtained thereby. 
Like Moses' rod, where the sunbeams knock. 
Life's water will flow from the solid rock. 
And the heart where love, shines fall and free 
A very fountain of youth shall be. 



RELIGIOUS POEMS 41 

Mummies,! said; nay tranced instead, 
And we may, if we will, arise and shed 
Each blinding bandage, each fold unroll 
Till the sunlight falls on the darkened soul; 
And small and slight will the Pyramids be 
Compared with the height of a soul set free. 



PATIENCE. 

Often, when night and its quiet falls around you, 
When, after day's failures, the rest-time has found you, 

Life's slow-yielding vineyards you scan. 
Look up to the sky softly over you leaning. 
And draw from its grandeur the clear written meaning 

Of the Maker who careth for man. 

Patiently labor ; all round us is beauty : 
Lilies bloom ever where runs the path Duty, 

Lilies with hearts filled with dew. 
If your sun seems to set, life's light seems to fail, 
Cometh not with tlie darkness the sweet nightingale? 

The starlight soft-fingered and true? 

Labor for others; thy life He is molding; 
Ever thy times in his hands He is holding; 

He giveth the drops as they fall. 
Then wait, though tlie waiting be never so dreary; 
Only to God is thy life rounded clearly : 

He knoweth the ending of all. 

Fate, born of God's thought, can never miscarry; 
Man cannot force it to haste or to tarry: 

Be patient and wait for His will. 
Ah, well for His children who chafe at His leading. 
Who spurn the cool pastures wherein they are feeding, 

That He wiio is love, loveth still. 



42 liELIGIOUS FOE 31 8 



EEVELATION. 

A lightning flash in the night, 

An instant and then it is o'er: 
What a revelation of light 

Where nothing was seen before ! 
The dew-wet grass at your feet. 

The twigs of the beech tree there, 
Blossoms and leaves complete 

Etched in the sapphire air. 

A lightning flash in the night: 

So, sometimes, O heart of mine, 
There flashes a wondrous light 

O'er those night-wrapped eyes of thine; 
And they see in that moment^s sight 

How sinful and black thou art 
To a God as pure as the light : — 

And thou bowest in shame, O heart. 

Thou seest aghast where hate, 

Malice and vanity thrive, 
Where envy and jealousy mate, 

And evil is kept alive. 
Thou seest a life that bears 

The name of the Christ in vain; 
A mantle of selfishness wears 

And strives for pleasure and gain. 

A lightning flash in the night: 

So, sometimes, out of thy trance, 
My soul, thou wakest to sight 

And knoweth thine ignorance. 
There flashes a concept dim 

Of the infinite depths of Space, 
Unthinkable save to him 

Who watches their chariot-race. 



RELIGIOUS POEMS 43 

Thou catchest an instant's gleam 

Of the Universe of God, 
Where a million worlds unseen 

Swing in their circles broad ; 
The awfulness of the years 

Weighing thee down, O Soul, 
Thou shrinkest with sudden fears, 

With dread thou canst not control. 



ANNIVERSARY HYMN. 

[tune : —Portuguese Hymn.] 

Our hearts rise to Thee, Oh our Father above, 
In grateful remembrance of mercy and love, 

Thine hand hath upheld us, thine arm been our stay, 
Thy strength and thy Spirit have guided our way. 

We thank Thee, we praise Thee with service and Bong: 
Our hearts and our voices to Thee do belong. 

Our prayers would rise ever in loving accord 
To Him who hath saved us, through Jesus our Lord. 

Oh, lead us, and help us, and cause us to know 

Thy will and thy wishes as onward we go, 
Thy kingdom to hasten our aim in the fight. 
Thy service our pleasure, thy way our delight. 



[siscellaneous. 



THE DYING POET. 

The sunset lit the land and sea ; 

The quiet deepened round hina ; 
We would not break by word or touch 

The Sabbath-peace that bound him. 

The radiance broadened in the West; 

The sea was opal-gleaming; 
The poet murmured as he lay 

As children do in dreaming. 

And softly did the breathed words 

Drop into sudden rhyming 
Like bells of long-gone Christmases 

O'er moonlit meadows chiming, 

In thought he was a child again,— 
His mother's voice a-calling. 

And on his brow at eventide 
Soft, sudden kisses falling. 

The lengthening shadows eastward fell: 
The crimson clouds slow drifted ; 

Through interlacing maple boughs 
The dazzling light was sifted. 

Again the measured murmurs rose; — 
His boyhood passed before him ; 

Around him were the fields and hills. 
The skies of youth shone o'er him. 

44 



MISCELLANEOUS 45 

The crimson West to purple turned ; — 

The words fell low and tender;— 
A maiden's love-lit eyes he saw, 

He clasped warm fingers slender. 

The sea grew gray. From distant hills 

The radiance faded slowly. 
The poet's voice to silence died; 

The room was hushed and holy. 

Thicker the shades around us fell; 

His breath came slow and slower: 
The golden gleams upon the West 

Grew dimmer still and lower. 

We bent above the peaceful face, 

Love's tender smile still wearing. 
Far in the sky the drifting clouds 

Day's last, faint gleam were bearing. 

We knew on other, fairer lands 

The sunrise light was breaking. 
To life and love the jjoet's soul 

Beyond the sun was waking. 



JUNE. 



To the lyre, O Apollo! June cometh again; 

Sound her praises abroad to the children of men. 

Begal June ! Straight from Heaven her pathway she takes. 

O'er the earth's pulsing heart her sweet censer she shakes. 

O beauty, awaken ! O perfume arise ! 
O birds, sound your choral beneath the far skies! 
Life is fair, O Queen June, with thy sceptre awave; 
Earth has turned to a bridal instead of a grave. 



46 MISCELLANEOUS 

O ye barriers finite, the angel-bands throng 
So close to thy portals we catch their far song, 
And the air is a- tremble with ecstacy deep, 
For the spirit of love has awakened from sleep. 

The flower-bells are ringing their anthems of praise, 
The leaves of the forest their glad chorus raise ; 
All nature has marshaled her forces in tune. 
To the Giver of beauty, the Giver of June. 

Lift your eyes, O humanity, see and rejoice; 

Let your gladness thrill out from your hearts through your 

voice; 
Let the psean of thankfulness heavenward roll ; 
From the midst of His love, praise the Lord, O my soul! 



COBWEBS. 

Over and over within my mind. 

Back from a childliood golden, 
A picture comes of a volume worn, 
Coverless, dog-eartd, battered and torn. 
Sacred 'mongst juvenile treasurers borne, 
''Mother Goose Melodies" olden. 

Folly of follies, we think, and smile, 
Recalling its childish fancies; 

And yet, perchance, it is better far 

Than many weightier volumes are; 

No harmful teachings its pages mar. 
No evil its charm enhances. 

One pictured tale I remember well, 
As o'er them memory lingers, 
About the old woman who flew so high 
To sweep the cobwebs out of the sky. 
With pointed cap and her hair awry. 

And a worn old broom in her fingers. 



MISCELLANEOUS 47 

Childish and foolish the little rhyme: 

Yet often the thought arises 
That under the folly there still may be 
A lesson lying for you and me, 
For deepest truths we may sometimes see 

Under most strange disguises. 

How many a grave reformer now. 

In this, the age of reformers. 
With vigorous broom and i^iercing eye 
Is trying to cleanse the whole wide sky 
Of dusty webs that he claims to spy 

In all of its distant corners ! 

And are we not prone, in a narrower way 

To think our efforts are needed 
To sweep some particular spot of blue. 
Where we fancy the light does not shine through 
With all the power it were equal to 

If only its course were heeded? 

Ah, let us come down to our own small lives, 
Down to our own heart's chambers, 

Use our brooms on the cobwebs here. 

Then when the walls are swept and clear 

We^ll have better right to interfere 

With the cobwebs blinding our neighbors. 

But I think ere our task is done we'll say. 

If we give our honest opinions. 
That life is too short and our strength too small. 
To leave us any leisure at all 
For sweeping down cobwebs large or small 

Outside of our own dominions. 



4 8 MIS ('ELL A Js'-E US 

DEAD— AGED 26. 

''THE END IS VISION." 

And so the problem's solved, — solved easily, - 

As other problems are, by the Master's touch. 

How simple the equation in the light 

Of this solution, — so abstruse before. 

The blame, the strife, the hurt, the scanty praise, — 

Too scanty far for the love-yearning heart — 

The clipping wings to bring to earthly use 

A creature not of earth— how vain is all 

In view of this, — the problem perfected 

And death, not life, the unknown quantity. 

''What use," he always said, '-this mone3^-strifey 
This searcii for knowledge, — wisdom of the world?" 
What use indeed, with Heaven ahead, not earth ! 
Back-gazing o'er the life we blamed so much 
For lacking earthly purpose, how the words 
Of one — another youth — come, "Wist ye not," 
To chiding Mother, "I must be about 
My Father's business?" Ah, Mary blamed, and yet 
She had the angels' message. We had none. 
And, after all, the blame grew out of love 
With her and us. Blind-folded human love. 
We'd be no wiser for more messages. 
Some lives there are whose work on earth is more 
To be than do. Eternity shows fruit. 
And now the flowers, the perfume,— heavy, rich, — 
The music, eulogy, — love-prompted— all. 
I wonder how^ they look — these things — to a soul 
Three days in Heaven. All the grief, remorse, 
The agony — to eyes now opened clear 
To the largeness of God's plan. Each reason plain 
For every step so erstwhile purposeless. 



MISCELLANEOUS 49 

The straightriess of His leadings— Ah, my friend, 

That's where we fail, — that's where the blindness comes: 

His plan— His leadings, — we would wrest away 

As petulant children from the father- hand 

And live our lives and guide our children's lives 

By our own small wisdom's measure,— plan for earth, 

While He plans for Eternity and Heaven. 

Life's bitterness and pain—how small 'twould grow 

If but His children knew the guiding hand 

For all alike, and heard the voice — '^Lo! I 

Am with you always, even to the End." 



THE CROWN-BIRD. 

Back in the days of fable 

When this old earth was young, 
When nature throbbed with music 

And every thought was sung; 
When Clotho's shining distaff 

Spun out the threads of life, 
And Jove from high Olympus 

Looked down on peace or strife : 

There flew, o'er beauteous Hellas, 

— So saith the fable old— 
A wondrous bird, broad-breasted 

With pinions strong and bold. 
And whom those pinions shadowed, 

From ether circling down, 
High-born were he or lowly. 

His head should wear a crown. 

Mayhap some humble shepherd 
In Thracian meadows wide 

His loitering flock drives homeward 
As nears the eventide; 



50 MISCELLANEOUS 

If o'er his eyes up-gazing 
The bh'd's dark shadow falls, 

He sees his peaceful pastures 
Change into royal halls. 

Or if some youthful Mother 

Her sleeping babe should place 
Where wandering breezes whisper 

And blossoms touch his face, 
And o'er his head unheeding 

Should soar the shadowing wings, 
Then for the tiny sleeper 

Awaited robes of kings. 

Earth's sordid aims have silenced 

The music of her youth ; 
Eyes have grown blind to beauty, 

Ears have grown dull to truth; 
Perchance, could we but see it, 

Still does the crown-bird soar, 
And shadow brows crown-fated 

As said the Greeks of yore. 



THE OLD GARRET ROOM. 

Of the perfumes of Araby poets may sing. 

Of tropic isles spicy and warm, 
But the breath of the Orient can not compare 

With the old Garret Room on the farm. 
Where the rafters sloped down to the swallow-swept eaves, 

And the wasp masons never knew harm, 
And the architect-spiders built palaces vast, 

In the old garret room on the farm. 

Where the bunches of catnip were hung by a string, 
With spearmint and peppermint near. 



MISCELLANEOUS 51 

And the sage swung aloft in a spicy repose 

Till the thanksgiving turkey appear. 
The burdock and yellow dock bided their time, 

By their side did the dandelion swing; 
For they knew that a sure resurrection would come 

When the ''bitters" were made in the Spring. 

The tansy and carraway mingled their scents 

With the hops and the withered sweet-flag, 
And the red-clover blooms a drear prison had found 

In a dusty and dark paper bag. 
There a coverless coffee-pot stood on a ledge. 

And, deep in its gloomy recesses, 
Were packets of seeds of a goodly old age — 

Sweet Williams and string-beans and lettuce. 

Aye, poets may sing of the vales of the East, 

Of rose-gardens spicy and sweet, 
But never a vale or a garden, I know. 

With the old garret room can compete. 
The old garret room with its dust and its gloom, 

Its atmosphere heavy and warm, 
Its age-blackened rafters hung thickly with herbs — 

The old garret room on the farm. 



IRELAND. 

Oh Ireland, thou child of Utopian birth. 

How camest thou here in this wearisome earth ! 

So far out of step in humanity's strife. 

So illy equipped for the struggle of life. 

What pleasure hast tliou in this world's bitter wine, 

Whose faults are all virtues, whose virtues divine? 

The one spot art thou in this dreary world wide, 

Where the serpent, the symbol of sin, can not hide. 



52 MISCELLAXEOUS 

The muses, of whom but faint glimpses we catch, 
Take up their abode beneath thy humble thatch. 
And song springs as free from the lips and the hearts. 
As thy shamrock in Spring from the green hillside starts., 
Mirth and gladness are tliine though the heart break the 

while, 
For smiles gleam through tears in the Emerald Isle ; 
But, Erin, thy leaven the world's bread doth need. 
And bereft of thy lightness 'twere heavy indeed. 

Our bravest in battle as sons thou canst claim ; 

They fill the front ranks in the long roll of Fame ; 

Their speech falleth golden from Eloquence' height 

As the star-flames of Venus pierce down through the night. 

Is there need of their bounty, their all they bestow. 

Though the morrow yield harvest of hunger and woe ; 

Nor can billows of pain or of poverty part 

The smile from the lip, or the song from the heart. 



OVEH ON THE CROSS-ROAD. 

Over on the cross-road, 

Years and years ago, 
Lay a land enchanted. 

None of us might know; 
When the old red scliool-house 

Stood upon the hill. 
Just beyond the graveyard, 

Ever cool and still. 

Over on the cross-road 
Black-berries grew wild. 

Nodding through the rail fence, 
When I was a child. 



MISCELLANEOUS 53 

In the stony pastures 

Grew the mullein white ; 
Browsed the sheep in day-time, 

Piped the quail at night. 

Over on the cross-road 

Stretching far away, 
Lost at last to vision 

In the woodland gray — 
Sometimes came a peddler, 

Bending neath his load; 
Or a dusty beggar, 

Loitering up the road. 

"When the twilight settled,— 

Stars came out above, — 
Somewhere down the cross-road 

Grieved the mourning dove. 
Then the ghostly wild-fire 

Gleamed and died away, 
And the bare-foot urchins 

Shivered at their play. 

Time brings disenchantment, 

But we think of thee 
O, thou country cross-road 

Wrapped in mystery ! 
As life's many cross-roads 

Through the years appear. 
All their glamor losing, 

As we draw more near. 



54 MISCELLANEO US 



A DEAD HOPE. 

Through the sunshine and shadow adown the still street, 
O'er arched by the elm boughs which sigh as they meet 
A flutter of crape from a cottage door tells 
That within those home-walls grief unspeakable dwells. 
We know that a loved one lies robed for the grave, 
And heart touches heart as the sad emblems wave ; 
For bereavement makes brotherhood all the world o'er, 
And humanity bows to the crape on the door. 

But ah, when a pure hope is born in the heart, 

Growing daily to be of its life-force a part. 

Lending strength to each prayer, to each smile giving grace, 

Making sweeter the voice and more gentle the face, 

And then swiftly by Fate's cruel ''never" is crushed, 

Though life's sunshine seems faded, its melody hushed. 

Its gladness and sweetness forever seem o'er, 

Ah, sad heart, the world sees no crape on thy door. 

But think you the home whence the dear one has fled 
Can lose the effulgence the spirit has shed? 
Though time to eternity pass, nevermore 
Can the world be again as it has been before. 
So no heart can e'er measure the difference wrought 
For life and for death by each dream, hope or thought. 
Though thy hope never blossom or fair dream endure, 
Yet know, O sad heart, that fruition is sure. 



MISCELLANEOUS 55 



*THE TALISMAN. 

Who has not read since childhood's earliest time, 

In witching prose or still more witching rhyme, 

The tales that swarm, like bees o'er summer flowers, 

Around the old Alhambra's courts and towers? 

Each carven fountain, silent now so long. 

Still has its legend of enchantment strong, 

And each old gateway, dungeon, vaulted hall. 

Each nook and corner where the moon-beams fall 

Is haunted by some story weird and old 

Of the long- vanished Moorish masters told. 

Enchantment holds in strange and mighty reign 

The sun-kissed hills and vineyards of old Spain, 

And all the sleepy land from east to west 

Beneath some magic spell is said to rest. 

Of these wild tales one haunts my mind to-night. 

As your familiar faces greet my sight, 

And, if you will, I would once more recall 

The ancient legend, known, I think, to all. 

^Tis this : When day's last lingering gleam is gone. 

And settles down the eve of good St. John, 

Then he who holds the magic charm may hear 

A low deep murmur rising far and near, 

And clank of armor and the steed's glad neigh. 

All sounding vague and dim and far away ; 

And then, from mountain cavern, quiet dell. 

And ruined castle, 'neath enchantment's spell, 

A spectral steed and rider greet the gaze 

With all the trappings of the olden days. 

From all the land they haste, and e'er there falls 

The hour of midnight on Granada's walls 

Boabdil's glittering army waits again 

As oft of old upon Granada's plain, 

'J'Read before Alumni Association of Elyria High School. 



56 MISCELLAXEO US 

For one short hour to fill th' Alhambra's courts 

With all the ancient greetings, feasts and sports. 

For ere the morning's faintest gleams appear 

Each one must vanish for another year. 

Ah, friends, e'en thus we meet again to-night. 

And thus w^ill vanish ere the morrow's light, 

Bound by a spell almost as strong and deep 

As that 'neath which the Moslem warriors sleep. 

The spell of daily duty, life's demands 

And toil's enchantment over brain and hands,— 

We still can break, one night of all the year, 

The spell that binds us, and commingle here. 

But come we all? Ah, friends, we grieve to-night 

For the dear faces vanished from our sight, 

For broken ranks and voices hushed to men. 

Bound by a mightier power than aught we ken. 

Ah, would some talisman could break the spell 

That holds so fast the ones we love so well, 

And grant, while moments of a night were told. 

That we might meet and greet them as of old. 

But only memory's talismanic hand 

Hath power to bring them from the silent land : 

And memory, though it bless indeed our years, 

Walks never far from the dim halls of tears. 

'Let pass the legend, for another thought, 

A weightier one, the same wierd tales have brought. 

Not only through the pleasant vales of Spain 

Doth strong enchantment hold a mighty reign. 

The whole wide world for ages Jay in sleep 

Beneath a spell more potent and more deep. 

And to this land and age is given to break 

The magic charm and bid the nations wake. 

The spell? Ah, friends, dark ignorance alone, 

The mother of all wrongs the world hath known, 

All superstition, cruelty and crime 

Which men have suffered since the birth of time. 



MISCELLANEOUS 57 

I challenge you to trace one hideous thing 

Which from that source of evil did not spring, 

And ours the talisman to cast away 

The dark enchantment and admit the day. 

Nor ours alone, — how many a kindred band 

The talisman holds out with eager hand! 

Nor these alone— to every school-house known 

Across the land as if in broadcast sown. 

And slowly, slowly, for the world is wide, 

The yielding fetters wi 1 be cast aside 

And purity and truth and right shall reign 

When knowledge breaks each binding bar and chain. 

For where truth reigns, reigns God, and by His will 

The leaven of the truth the world shall fill. 

Ah, wondrous age, and still more wondrous land, 

W^here lowest, highest, side by s'de may stand ; 

Where marble court and legislative hall 

An equal welcome give to each and all ; 

Where birth and worth an honest balance turn, 

And gold is his who hath the power to earn ; 

Where naught may keep the lowliest from a throne. 

And kings alone by kingly deeds are known. 

Aye, humble schoolroom, wheresoeVr thou art. 

By country roadside or the city's heart, 

Thine is the power, the talisman is thine — 

The darkness yields before thy magic sign ; 

The sunrise brightens o'er the land and sea. 

And ignorance lays down its arms to thee. 

But, O my friend, though fair tlie dawn appear, 

Think not, I pray, that more than dawn is here. 

The noon-time still is far, — aye far away, — 

The glorious fullness of the light of day: — 

Nor will it come till, all night's banner's furled, 

He comes, indeed, who ^'lighteth all the world." 



58 MISCELLAIfEOUS 



THE BUTTERNUT BOUGH. 

The butternut bough swayed over the stream; 

The stream was shallow and clear, 
Darted the minnows within ; without 

The dragon-fly's glittering spear. 
The butternut bough, so brown and strong, 

So graceful, willowy, lithe, and long. 
Drooped down so low, by the water's flow, 

We could leap and clasp it, and to and fro. 
Royally swinging, the bough would go. 

The butternut bough, as if nature knew 

What the farm-house children would like to do- 
Nature and childhood are comrades true — 

Fashioned a seat as smooth and neat 
As ever saddle for lady meet; 

Cunningly curving, safe and wide. 
Waiting the children to mount and ride; 

With leafy branches for bridle and rein. 
Over mountain, valley, and plain 

Galloped the charger with might and main. 

Sometimes the bough was a ship, you know. 

Was there not water flowing below? 
Rigging and mast and spar up there. 

Over our heads, in the summer air; 
And, best uf all, if a storm should wake. 

An anchor that never was known to break. 
Over the sea afar sailed we. 

Ships of the king, or pirates free. 
Strange and wonderful things to see. 



MISCELLANEOUS 69 

The butternut bough swayed over the stream, 

Ah me, it was long ago, 
But whether a royal carriage of state, 

Or a fiery steed or a vessel great, 
Wherever we choose to go, 

Over the hill where mother and home. 
As I wish tliey w^ere ever for those who roam, 

Over mountain or vale or ocean-foam, 
As of old on the butternut bough. 



CHILDHOOD'S BIRTHRIGHT. 

If our land could give to its children. 

In the first glad years of life, 
A home in the beautiful country. 

Afar from the city's strife, 
Away from the noise and turmoil. 

The never-ceasing tread. 
The heartless struggle for riches, 

The hopeless struggle for bread, 

How would the ranks be strengthened 

Of the Nation's brave and strong; 
How would its records lessen 

Of poverty, crime and wrong ; 
For what can the city offer 

In place of forest and field? 
What can its noisy pavements 

Or crowded factories yield? 

For happiness cannot linger 
Where grinding poverty lives. 

And the grandest home of the wealthy 
But gilded bitterness gives. 



60 MIS .ELLANEO US 

God surely meant for the children 
The strength of the mighty hills. 

The richness of treasure unfailing 
Which nature's store-house fills. 

O care-free days of my childhood; 

While memory holds its sway, 
My heart will yield thee its homage 

Wherever my footsteps stray. 
Pictures of early mornings 

Throng back from the long-ago, 
When the eastern sl^y was flaming 

And the dew-wet grass aglow. 

When up from the farthest corner 

Of the old south pasture w^ide 
We merrily roused the cattle — 

Each with a steaming side. 
Then mounting the slow farm horses 

From the old fence' top-most rail, 
We drove the cows to the barnyard, 

Where waited each wide-mouthed pail. 

Memories ot old, old>orchards, 
Low-branching and gnarled and dim, 

Of mossy northern hillsides, 
Of brooks where the minnows swim, 

Of Autumn with untold treasures- 
Frost grapes luscious and sweet, 

Mushrooms, and nuts half hidden 
In the gorgeous leaves at your feet. 

Then let not our fair country 
Be plowed by the alien's hand. 

Be proud of your farms and homesteads, 
Be proud of your fruitful land. 



MISCELLANEOUS 61 

Know that the cities lure you 

To false and empty joys, 
And thank the Lord if the country 

Can shelter your ghis and boys. 



GOLD. 



When far from the harbor of sun-kissed Spain 
The mariners sailed o'er the unknown main, 
Their quest was a land of wealth untold 
And their dreams were all of the shining gold. 

Rich indeed was the new-found land, 
Its forests boundless, its rivers grand, 
Free and wonderful, wide and wild. 
Beauty lavish and undefiled. 

They came, and toiled, and suffered, and died. 
Seeking and ever unsatisfied. 
Reward abundant their labor brought. 
But never the one reward they sought. 

Cities arose as the time went by, 
Church-spires pointed the way to the sky; 
Cornfields rustled and hearth-fires gleamed. 
But they found not the gold of which they dreamed. 

And ever as up from the ocean wide, 
Farther and farther creeps the tide. 
So over the broad land day by day, 
A nation was making its onward way. 

Miglity rivers were curbed and spanned. 
Prairies yielded their harvests grand, 
Dreary deserts their secrets told. 
Hills were stripped of their forests old. 



62 MIS UJELL A NE US 

And at length, when the years had come and fled 
Till the tale of the whole wide land was read, 
Where the sun dips into the ocean vast, 
They found the wonderful gold at last. 

There are torrents to cross on the path of life ; 
There are mountains and deserts witli danger rife, 
Hast thou placed, O Fatlier, to draw us o'er, 
The gold of life on the farther shore? 



THE SONG OF YOUTH. 

Youth's meadows are green beneath our feet, 

Bound us the summer air floats sweet. 

Glimpses of hills afar to the right 

Through the bending tree-tops reach our sight: 

And the butterflies lazily floating by 

Are not more free than you and I. 

What do we care though the sages say 

That summer-time cannot last alway? 

Are we not standing amid youth's flowers, 

With the heritage of the ages ours? 

Men have been sowing tlirough years gone by; 

We are tlie reapers — you and I. 

Poets and artists for fame have sought; 
We are the future for which they wrought; 
Rich is the fruitage that waits our hand; 
Life and love at our bidding stand ; 
The treasures of earth in our pathway lie, 
We will enjoy them — you and I. 



MISCELLANEOUS 63 

Pate is a myth and youth is strong; 
Life is worth living, if short or long; 
Sceptre and crown we may take at will ; 
Thrones are waiting for us to fill. 
X/et us arise ere our days pass by, 
Heirs of Humanity — you and I. 



OHIO ALL THE YEAR. 

I've thought the matter over , 

An', nigh as I kin see, 
I don't know of another place 

I'd any ruther be. 
The story- writers slight us. 

The poets pass us by, 
But right here in Ohio 

I'd choose to live an' die. 

It's just as old as Egypt, 

An' a hundred times as good; 
Lake Erie's bin here longer 

Than the Pyramids hev stood. 
An' if it's brains thet's wanted, 

I guess 'twould Stan' a show, 
Alongside any other place 

No matter whar you go. 

Ohio in the spring time. 

When the apple orchards blow, 
An' the cherry trees resemble 

A good-sized drift o' snow. 
Ohio in the summer, 

With a thousand wheat-fields white, 
When the reapers buzz by daytime. 

An' the Katydids by night — 



64 MISCELLANEO US 

Ohio in the autumn, 

With the robin's good-bye song — 
Thanksgivin' time an' Christmas 

A'comin' right along; 
Ohio in the winter, 

With the cross-roads drifted high- - 
Just listen to the music 

Of the sleigli-bells jinglin' by. 

With the apples an' the cider, 

In the even in' by the blaze, 
When a neighbor calls to talk about 

The Senate's cur'us ways — 
Yes, lookin' at it all aroun' 

I'm willin' fer to say 
I'll take, fer solid comfort, 

Ohio any day. 



THE BROOK WHERE WE USED TO FISH. 

Though many the miles that lie between 
This page and that well-remembered scene. 
And many the years that intervene, 
Yet still I can never forget, I ween, 
The brook where we used to firh. 

The trees arched over it, green and high, 
Veiling the blue of the summer sky. 
And dropping flickering shades to lie 
Over the minnows swift and shy 

In the brook where we used to fish. 

The banks were tunneled with muskrat holes — 
Mysterious places to probe with poles — 
The stones were green with the cool moss folds,, 
And lichens grew on the great tree-boles 
By the brook where we used to fish. 



MISCELLANEOUS ' 65 

Black-snakes coiled on the sunk logs near, 
Snapping- turtles and crabs were here; 
But never a thought had we of fear — 
Their citizenship was proved and clear 
By the brook where we used to fish. 

We sat on the grassy bank in a row, — 
Barefoot urchins with heads of tow, 
Watching the corks float to and fro. 
And the sunfish glistening down below 
In the brook where we used to fish. 

Sometimes we followed its winding way 
Past the butternut trees and the willows gray. 
Clear to the little white bridge that lay 
At the edge of the strange land stretching away 
From the brook where we used to fish. 

Many a lesson, good or ill. 
Many a task for heart and will 
Strive the hastening years to fill. 
But a scene that memory holdeth still 
Is the brook where we used to fish. 



OUT OF PRISON. 

Solomon, cynic, seer and sage. 

Wisest of mortals in any age. 

Wrote when the years had dimmed his eyes:— 

^'Better a child who is poor and wise; 

Seeking guidance from each and all, 

Than he who is born in a palace hall." 



66 3fI8CELLANE0US 

For the child from prison cometh to reign, 
Slowly but surely his throne to gain ; 
Born to the purple, born to hear 
'^Vive le Roi!" with conscious ear, 
Born the scepter of power to sway — 
Each in his own appointed way. 

Born to the purple— yes, but stay ! 

The royal garment is far away ; 

Far away, while before his eyes 

The prison walls of poverty rise. 

Ah, many the prince those walls restrain, 

But ''out of prison he cometh to reign." 

Hard is the struggle those walls to scale, 
But the scepter waiteth, he must not fail. 
Weary the climbing, and few can see 
In the humble climber the king to be. 
So many the toilers, the crown so far, 
What careth the world who its princes are? 

Better a child who is poor and wise 

Than the haughtiest form in kingly guise ; 

For the monarch no counsel will heed or hear; 

The child is waiting with list'ning ear. 

Born to the purple, indeed, but none 

The crown may wear till the crown is worn 

Few the kings in this land of ours 
But have looked through poverty's prison bars. 
Toil-marked the hands which the scepter bear, 
Weary the brows which the crowns do wear. 
The poor and wise have the world to gain 
And ''out of prison he cometh to reign." 



MISCELLANEOUS 67 



IN THE LIBRARY. 

Over the green-robed hills away 

To the ebb tide sand fields stretching gray, 

Over the opal tinted spray 

Hide and seek 'mongst the rocks at play, 

Over the ocean prairies, — 
Away, away and still away, 
Time and distance —naught are they; 
Bring tomorrow what it may. 
All the eartli is mine today. 

Mine the wings of fairies. 

Kings and queens in rich array 
At my bidding, go or stay. 
Castle- towers and gardens gay, — 
Forests where shy deer stray; 

All the Orient's treasures,— 
Gilded mosques where Moslems pray. 
Cities by the Persian Bay, 
Where the vales enchanted lay ; 
Who hath power to say me nay? 

Mine the wide world's pleasure. 



WHEN SHADOWS FALL. 

When shadows fall and birds chirp low. 
When homeward weary toilers go. 

When beetles wheel and daisies close. 
When play-worn children seek repose, 

Then let sweet thoughts arise in all, 

When shadows fall, when shadows fall. 



68 MISCHLLANEOUS 

When shadows fall, and clear and far, 
Shines in the sky the evening star, 

Then be all bitterness forgot, 

All blinding hatred flourish not, 

Peace on the heart's high throne install 
When shadows fall, when shadows fall. 

When shadows fall and work doth cease, 
Bid worldly cares thy soul release ; 

Let charity and love arise 

As darkness softly veils the skies ; 

Then sweet shall be life's vesper call, 

When shadows fall, when shadows fall. 



*^TILL DEATH US JOIN." 

A grave-yard lies in the city's heart, 

High-walled and aged and gray, 
A place from the city's noise apart, 

Closed book of a by-gone day. 

Thick lies the graves with their sunken stones, 
And the hand of Time— ah me ! — 

Has almost hidden the legends quaint 
With its mossy tracery. 

One grave is close by a dying elm, 

And the traveler there may see : 
''To Samuel, aged twenty-four, 

Died eighteen thirty- three." 

And away, ah! far away to-night 

Where the fire-light fades and glows 

A woman sit^: On her thin hair white 
More than eighty winters' snows. 



MISCELLAJSTEOUS 69 

And ever the name in her busy thoughts, 
The name that she whispers low, 

Is Samuel, love of her girlhood days. 
The husband of long ago. 

Vanished the present, and hers once more 
The past with its hopes and fears. 

The brave boy husband again is hers. 
Though dust for these sixty years. 

Another has called her wife since then: 

The heads of her sons are gray; 
But not of them is her thought or speech 

As fadeth her life's long day. 

Her name again is the name he gave; 

His ring on her worn hand gleams. 
Of him are ever the tales she tells, 

Of him are her happy dreams. 

On, Samuel, aged twenty-four. 

Boy-husband, lover and friend, 
No grave over thee has victory, 

Love knoweth no bound or end. 

To her thy hair is as brown to-night— 

As tender thy voice and low 
As when you loved her, your fair girl-bride, 

Full seventy years ago . 



70 MISCELLANEOUS 



ASLEEP. 

Low 'mid the downy pillows 

Brown cniis and rings of gold ; 
The baby's dimpled fingers 

The Mother's gently fold. 
Soft cheek Against soft cheek resting 

While evening shadows creep, 
White lids the brown eyes veiling, 

Mother and babe, — asleep. 

He bent to watch them, smiling. 

Tears gleaming through the smile. 

And words of prayer, unbidden, 
Rose silently the while. 

Still 'mid the snowy blossoms 

Brown curls and rings of gold : 
The baby's waxen fingers 

Again the Mother's fold. 
No bloom the cold cheeks tinting 

No breathings soft and deep 
Brown eyes no more to open — 

Mother and babe,— asleep. 

He stood beside them silent. 

No moan, no tear, no prayer, 
Joy drains the heart's deep fountains, 

Grief finds but dark despair. 



MISCELLANEOUS 71 



THE PASSING OF DAWN. 

Across the prairie breaks the dim, sweet morn; 

With low, glad rustle wakes the serried corn; 
The tiny, timid things housed underground 

Dawn's subtile perfume brings to list the sound, 
And all the air with rapture throbs and swells 

The soul-heard music of Dawn's tliousand bells. 

The floating rose-leaves in the Eastern sky 
Are born in sheaves by opal waves on high, 

While in the West the ashes of the night 

Beyond our quest are swept by fingers white. 

Dawn's feet afar the mountain-tops have trod; 
Oh hearts of men, awake,— to work — and God. 



SONG.— DO THEY WHISPER. 

Blossoms and buds of the springtime. 

Ringing your dainty-sweet bells, 
What are the fairy-land stories 

Your dim-chiming melody tells? 
What do the soft breezes wliisper? 

What do the butterflies say ! 
What do the dew-jewels murmur 

As into the shadows you sway? 
Do they whisper, ''We love you, we love you,^^ 

Through all of the long happy day? 



72 MISCELLANEOUS 



AMBITION. 

He who Pegasus would conquer, long and 

lonely must he ride : 
Toil and weariness await him who 

would climb Parnassus' side. 
In the valley is contentment, pleasant 

rest and loving friend ; 
On the heights are cold and hunger, 

pain and longing without end. 
What if glory bathe the summit, 'tis but 

sunliglit on the snow, — 
Dreary wind that ceases never, — warmth 

and verdure lie below. 



RETROSPECTION. 

Across the lapse of years which seem 

Like the frail fabric of a dream. 

The full, fair yesterdays of youth 

Gaze at me with their eyes of truth, 

And say, with voice that clearer grows 

As wax and wane life's suns and snows: 

*'Oh toiler, dreamer, weary-eyed. 

Drop your thorn-woven robes of pride. 

So cold, so harsh, so dearly bought; 

Your crowns with glistening tears inwrought ;- 

We are the real; all that you grasp 

Doth fade and vanish from your clasp. 

Earth's gifts are all alike in this— 

Possession brings not happiness : 

Pleasure and bitterness are one ; 

Ambition's task is never done. 



3fI8CELLANE0U8 73 

And, like the rainbow's pot of gold, 
Success ye seek but never hold. 
We are the real; your childhood years, 
Undimmed by time, unstained by tears; 
What know we of the pride of birth? 
What know we of the rank of earth? 
Deceit or vanity or pain. 
The fight for bread, the lust of gain? 
Come back to us ; the keys we hold 
Which open gates to streets of gold. 
Though twice a thousand years have fled 
Ee-echo still the words He said— 
To breathe the air of Heaven mild 
You must be as a little child." 

Beckoning youth \ I would the way 
Were shorter and the sky less gray. 

1 would the path, so hard to climb. 
Could be retraced to thy dear time ; 
I would the scars on heart and brain 
Some kind hand could erase again. 
Brush off the dust of toil and sin, 
And let the light of childhood in. 
And Thou, Our Father, high above 
Our blindest wanderings, in Thy love 
O lead us, though we cannot see, 

To childhood^s purity, and Thee. 



WITH MEMORY'S EYES, 

Ah, sing not of Italian skies. 

Of English moors and meadows. 

Of torrents dark whose gleam and spark 
Leap down 'mid Alpine shadows; 



74 MISCELLANEOUS 

For, wander wheresoe'er you will, 

The heart of each turns gladly still 

To unsung grove and unsought rill 
That knew your childhood's hours. 

No brighter skies have ever shone 

Than those your childhood days have known. 
And never bloomed in any zone 

Aught fairer buds and flowers. 

Then scorn not your familiar fields, 

Dream not of castles olden, 
For comes the day when you shall say 

The scenes of youth are golden. 



DAWN. 



Dun smoke upcurling to a roseate sky 

From gray-walled cots with eastern windows flaming, 
A frost touched land : A rose-gray symphony 

The new-born day with tender touch proclaiming. 



SINCE THOU ART AWAY. 

Since thou art away 

All our joys go astray. 
And fadeth each blossom and vine. 

The trees sigh in grief 

And low droppeth each leaf 
And the stars have forgotten to shine. 



MISCJELLAJSrUOUS 75 

Since thou art away 

The soft Moon will not stay, 
And fled is her radiance divine. 

The sea weepeth soft, 

And the birds grieve aloft. 
And the stars have forgotten to shine. 

Since thou art away 

When the sweet breezes play 
The name that they whisper is thine ; 

And the night and the day 

Sad and slow pass away 
And the stars have forgotten to shine. 



A PORTENT. 

O'er Southern seas that Autumn night 
Uncounted stars shed shimmering light 
And blue depths mirrored back the sight 

A thousand years the same. 
For never sea or sky had known 
The echoes of a human tone 
Or stars on human form had shone 

With radiant tropic flame. 

But Fate upon the page of Time 

That night had marked with touch sublime 

To shape each future age and clime 

And perish nevermore. 
For ships with tapering spar and mast 
Black shadows on the waters cast 
And broke the ripples as they passed 

To seek an unknown shore. 



re MISCELLANEOUS 

Throup:h weary months the sun's last ray 
Had tinged their prows at close of day 
And still their course unchanging lay — 

Westward turned every eye. 
And now on one high deck there stands 
A man whose tireless vision scans 
For fleeting outlines of fair lands 

The circle of the sky. 

Columbus ! Worthy of the name ! 
Christ-bearer, — Christopher, — he came 
Seeking not merely wealth or fame 

But lead by purpose high ; 
And now as draws the moment near 
To prove his wondrous vision clear 
What Fate-fraught signal shall appear 

To greet the Leader's eye? 

Listen, Oh Country of the Free, 
Listen, Oh lands beyond the sea, 
Listen, Oh Nations yet to be ! 

What met the Master's sight? 
A prophesy it was indeed, 
A message for the world to read, 
A lesson for all Time to heed, — 

The shining of a light. 

And thou, — hast thou fulfilled, Oh Land, 
Thy destiny God-willed and grand, 
A light within the world to stand? 

Thou hast, fair land of mine. 
A light to freedom for all men, 
For heart and hand, for voice and pen; 
A light to show to mortal ken 

Man's liberty divine. 



MISCELLANEOUS 77 

A light to home and womanhood, 
To greatest growth and highest good. 
Equality and brotherhood 

For each and all the same. 
Oh Land, of all the ages heir. 
Send out thy radiance broad and fair 
That all within the earth may share 

Thy truth-revealing flame. 



Refrain. 



SWALLOWS. 

To-day the swallows flying 

Through Summer air overhead 
Bring visions to my fancy 

From years forever fled. 
I see a low-browed homestead, 

'Neath drooping Maple leaves. 
And near it stands an old red barn 

With swallows round the eaves. 



Oh swallows, swallows, swallows. 

Ye bear my heart away 
To other climes and other scenes. 

Now flown for many a day. 

The shadows all are lengthening 

From out the flaming West 
And circling, circling downward 

The swallows seek their nest 
A Mother's voice is calling, 

The cattle homeward go. 
And hidden 'neath the old barn eaves 

The swallows twitter low. 



78 MISCELLANEOUS 

Refrain, 

Oh swallows, swallows, swallows, 

Ye bear my heart away 
To other climes and other scenes. 
Now flown for many a day. 



NELLIE. 

Nellie stands at the molding-board 

Touched by the warm sunlight 
Her sleeves to her dainty elbows rolled 

Her arms all dimpled and white. 
She hums a tune as she works away, 

'^Douglas tender and true ;" 
Oh Nellie, my thoughts with the flour you sift, 

And every thought is of you. 

Nellie stands at the moulding-board,— 

Dreamy her downcast face ; 
Her pink-tipped fingers in and out 

Glance with a witching grace 
Nod and quiver the tiny curls 

Crowning her girlish head, — 
Oh Nellie, Nellie, you knead my heart 

In with your loaves of bread. 

Nellie, there in your cotton gown 

Simple and fresh and neat, 
Flour on your fingers fit for gems 

Earnest your eyes and sweet. 
Shaping your snowy loaves with care, 

Ne'er was a fairer sight: 
My heart will be light as the bread you knead 

If you'll tell me ''yes" to-night. 



MISCELLANEOUS 79 



A VISION. 

A dream of Death and a dream of Bliss 
A dream of the Life that circles this, 

A dream of the endless day. 
A dream of barriers cast aside,— 
Of gates to Infinity opened wide, — 

Of Mortality passed away. 

We had left the bondage of work and tears 
Of darkness and sorrow, of failure and fears,— 
And stood where Eternity's dawning clears 

From the midnight of time at last. 
We knew as a day a thousand years 

And a thousand days had passed. 

In the lap of the Universe lay impearled 
The atom we erst had called the World, 

Its part in the Infinite done. 
The scroll of the Lord to our siglit unrolled 
And we traced through its workings fold by fold 

The plan of the Mighty One. 

We saw, as we deem the angels do. 
The near and distant, the false and true. 

With God-born, limitless sight; 
And the great life-principle shut in our soul 
Felt the fetters away from its memory roll 

And it wakened again to light. 

We knew the cycles ere Time had birth,— 

Ere the voice of the Lord brought forth tlie Earth, 

As yesterdays after sleep. 
And the ages of men before us rolled. 
The Nations of earth in graves long cold. 

Through centuries buried deep. 



80 MISCELLANEOUS 

And wherever mortals lived and died, 
Walking among them side by side, 

Brothers in toil and pain, 
Where those whom the Lord had drawn apart 
Nearer the pulse of the mighty heart 

Freer from earthly stain. 

They saw, the Finite piercing through, 
Things fairer than their brothers knew. 

Heights nearer to the sun; 
And heard, above Earth's myriad cries. 
Faint echoings from beyond the skies ; 

And dreamed of victories won. 

They caught, from earth and sea and air, 
God's beauty, spreading everywhere. 

And prisoned it in song; 
And bound in columi.ed beatings deep 
The strains that through the ages sweep 

With pulsings solemn, strong. 

They felt the crown of kingship weigh 
Their weary brows whereon it lay 

Yet joyfully they sang. 
Earths bitterness and pain and woe 
Full deeply did their spirits know, 
And in their music's changing flow 

The tones of sorrow rang. 

They let the ties of Heaven bind 
Their hearts to hearts of all mankind 

In mighty brotherhood. 
And lived to point each fettered soul 
On toward the God-appointed goal 

Of the Eternal Good. 



MISCELLANEOUS 81 



Then to our minds in vision rose 
The laurel-circled brows of those 

Whom we in life had known. 
We called them Poets. Manifold 
In latter days and days of old 

They sang in varied tone. 

The voice that told the wondrous fall 
Of angel throngs from Heaven's wall, 

With solemn rhythm deep. 
And his who trod with bended head, 
By Rome's supremest singer led 

Where Pluto's shadows sweep. 

And that one whom the Master sent — 
A Poet and a Mother blent — 
Whose heart of womanhood was rent 

By toiling children's moan. 
She who could look for brother's sake, 
Beyond her pain-spent life and make 

A nation's grief her own. 

And all who sang, in simpler lays. 
Their songs of life and love and praise, 

Of labor and of rest. 
Who gladdened weary heart and brain, 
Or lightened life's abiding jjain. 

While earth their footsteps pressed. 

And we, e'f n there, in rev'rence bent 
To those rare souls which Heaven sent 

To bless the earth with song. 
Who gave to man their best of life. 
Who showed the victory after strife,— 

The crowning of the strong. 



82 3II8CELLAXE0US 



THE WHITE MAN'S PRIVILEGE. 

"Take up the White Man's burden;" 

Two lands the strains repeat, 
They echo through our musings, 

And on our heart strings beat. 
'•Take up the White Man's burden;" 

Our greatest poet sings; 
And yet, amid the music, 

A note of discord rings. 

''Take up the White Man's burden;" 

Oh God, is this our thought? 
Can this be all the lesson 

Our liberty has taught? 
Nay, looking o'er the oceans. 

We face the waiting world. 
And give them back their answer. 

Like Sinai's thunder's hurled. 

We take the White Man's privilege, 

As heirs come to their own ; 
As kings take up the sceptre. 

And seek the waiting throne. 
We take the White Man's privilege 

With courage and with prayer. 
Put childish things behind us, 

And ask for strength to dare. 

We take the White Man's privilege. 

The legacy of work 
The Son of God bequeathed us. 

Which none who serve may shirk. 
He bore the self-same burden. 

Up Calvary's fearful side ; 
For thankless ones He suffered 

For those who jeered, He died. 



MLSCELLAJ^EOUS 83 

We take the White Man's privilege, 

The un-taught ones to teach ; 
The wild and sullen peoples, 

To seek for and to reach. 
We give our best and noblest, 

Our best is none too good ; 
We seek not thanks or payment, 

But only brotherhood. 

We take the White Man's privilege; 

With saints and martyr's share, 
To raise the ones who perish ; 

To give our toil and care. 
To turn the dark world slowly 

But surely toward the light; 
The sunbeams of God's message. 

To flash across its night. 

What though they weigh and judge us ; 

What though they spurn our care, 
And smite the hand that lifts them. 

And mock the pleading prayer? 
There rises to our vision, 

A cross— a rock hewn tomb. 
An Angel guarded doorway, 

A voice that pierced the gloom. 

We take the White Man's privilege; 

Our God who sits on high, 
Has opened wide the pathway. 

We can but do or die. 
No more to stand safe-shielded. 

While others lead the fray; 
Our hour has struck. We answer ; 

We come, Oh Earth, to-day. 



84 MISCELLAXEO US 



THE HEIGHT AND THE VALLEY. 

A child at play in the grass and clover 

Finds a pebble the rain washed clear, 
A feather droj^ped when the doves flew over 

Or the blue of a robin-eg-g's glistening sphere. 
Ah, mother, bearing to thee her treasure, 

Soft hair flying and eyes agleam. 
She cannot know in her childish pleasure 

How small to thee does the treasure seem. 

She lays it away with her dimpled fingers 

Safe with the things she holds most dear, 
And the little box where the treasure lingers. 

Adds to its prizes year by year; 
A curl of gold from her girl-friend's tresses; 

The girl whom the angels found so soon — 
Pieces cut from her dainty dresses 

When her life was bright as the days of June. 

Flowers that he brought, her first boy-lover. 

Careless of eye and fair of face ; 
And flowers again, with the touch of another 

Lending their beauty deeper grace. 
Ah, naught on earth or the heaven above her 

Seemed to the maid so fair, so dear. 
As the joyous face of her girlhood's lover, 

As the ringing voice so free and clear. 

Pass the years and a woman, kneeling — 
Thick in her hair the threads of snow — 

Gazes into a box revealing 
Faded relics of long ago. 



MISCELLAXEO US 85 

Smiles she sad at the sometime treasures. 
Flowers of the lover and child's delight, 

Harvest of longings, hopes and pleasures 
Worthless alike to the wider sight. 

O Father, Father, who ehangest never. 

Is it all so small that we long for here? 
Is naught on earth worth the striving after 

When the strife is past and the vision clear? 
Earth's honors, gold and fame and learning 

Which our hands so often raise on high. 
Are our prizes small to Thy discerning 

As the childish prize to the older ej^e? 



THE END- 



NOV 161899 



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